Mrs Carson, Mrs Hughes
by Kissman
Summary: Spoilers for 6.04. A brief honeymoon scene in which Mrs. Carson considers her name.


**Spoilers for episode 6.04. My personal fix.**

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She'd never seen him as happy as he was on their holiday.

Their "honeymoon" as it were, but she had trouble thinking of it like that. Honeymoons were excursions for young lovers, still half in the dark about each other. She didn't feel that way about him.

All right, perhaps there were _some_ things she hadn't known before.

But her fears of being absurd and undesirable were swiftly abated. On their actual wedding night they'd tumbled into their shared bed at the inn too exhausted from their journey to so much as speak to one another. The next morning Elsie had awoken to her husband's gentle snoring in her ear and his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. It took her a moment to work up the courage to turn around and kiss him on the cheek, but it had been well worth it to see his face light up when he blinked his eyes open. And more than worth it when he kissed her firmly on the mouth in response. She couldn't help the little hum that escaped her throat, but he didn't seem to mind. Soon nightgowns and pyjama tops would be discarded, and the rest fell neatly into place after that.

They spent their days being deliciously lazy. Sleeping in and cuddling well past daybreak, taking long walks together down the beach with no particular destination in mind. The water was warm enough for wading, and Elsie was very happy that her husband had convinced the family Scarborough was sufficient for them. She couldn't imagine a place she'd rather be, and anywhere posh would have made her feel uncomfortable. This however... this was bliss.

The inn was a small one, run by a family that knew every guest by name. She was always greeted by a "good morning, Mrs. Carson" or "enjoy your supper, Mrs. Carson." Charles always grinned at that. He'd been close to bursting with pride at their wedding reception, and it hadn't seemed to fade as quickly as she thought it might. He made her blush, to see him be so blatantly and obviously in love with her, but in heart she felt the same.

After several decades of being known as Mrs. Hughes, she liked her married name, but it did sit rather oddly. Mrs. Hughes had been earned and kept for her hard work in her profession. Mrs. Carson had been earned through marriage. Make no mistake, she adored being called it - it still sent a little flutter of happiness through her breast each time - but it also felt like she was tucking Mrs. Hughes away in closet, not to mentioned again. That her independence didn't warrant acknowledgment over her marriage unsettled her on some level. As there holiday drew to a close she spent more and more time ruminating on the subject.

He did notice. Silently he tried to puzzle out in his head why she was so distracted periodically, until he decided that he best to simply ask her outright. That's what married people did, didn't they? Communicated? He felt sure she would tell him if anything was wrong, but perhaps she needed prompting. That night as they lay together, her head resting comfortably upon his chest, he decided to brooch the subject.

"Elsie? Is everything alright?"

She gave a little start at the question, which seems to have come out of thin air. "I should think so," she replied, still half distracted by her thoughts.

"You seem to have something on your mind. I was wondering if I might be privy to it?"

She bit her lip and shook her head dismissively. "I've just been thinking, that's all."

"About what?" He shifted to sit up more, paying her his full attention.

"You'll think it silly."

"I promise I won't."

She rolled her eyes, mostly at herself, but she sat up to address him all the same.

"I was thinking how very odd it will be to be called Mrs. Carson all day long," she began, not quite looking at him. "Here it fits perfectly, but somehow being summoned by Her Ladyship as 'Mrs. Carson' seems... strange."

"Whyever is that?" said Charles, taking her hands in his and giving them a reassuring squeeze.

"I suppose because Mrs. Carson didn't work her way up to becoming the housekeeper at Downton Abbey, Mrs. Hughes did," she said softly. "Please don't mistake me, I'm proud to your wife, truly I am, it just seems like that part of my life...doesn't belong at work. We've said there will be no changes, but we cannot deny that this is one."

Charles looked thoughtfully at her, but remained silent.

"They will all would get used to it, eventually," she continued, looking almost sad.

"But it will be difficult to get used to," conceded Charles. "And it's most unorthodox, even these days."

"Perhaps then, we needn't force them to get used to it?" asked Elsie quietly.

"It's certainly possible," said Charles. Elsie looked at him in surprise.

"If I have to suffer through his Lordship stumbling through it every time he has a message for you I might go mad," Charles said without a hint of sarcasm. "My dear, if you would prefer to remain 'Mrs. Hughes' at work, I think it's a fine idea."

"You're not offended then?"

He beamed at her, "I can assure you, Mrs. Carson, that the very last thing I am at this moment, is _offended."_

She smiled back at him, and leaned in to meet his kiss. Mrs. Hughes would remain the housekeeper, but here in their marriage bed she was decidedly Mrs. Carson.

~End~


End file.
